


i'd give anything to hear you say it one more time

by good_ho_mens



Series: Love, Not Loved [5]
Category: Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: ???? sure that works, Bart Allen Needs A Hug, Cassie Sandsmark Is A Good Friend, Cassie Sandsmark Needs a Hug, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Kon-El | Conner Kent Needs a Hug, Not Canon Compliant, Reunions, That Moment When Your Best Friends Come Back To Life, The Day After Your Other Best Friends Funeral, actually one more thing this is mainly the yj kids, bruh they all do, haha bruh moment, idk what else to tag this so here we gooooo, if that wasnt obvious by the previous parts, oh wait lol, okay enough, okay for real, sorry Tim you're still dead, the others arent there very long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27873146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/good_ho_mens/pseuds/good_ho_mens
Summary: “If I don’t see my little brother in the next twenty minutes, I’m going to pass out.”“We are in Kansas.”“I know, I could see the crop circle for miles.”“Kon! Kon, that makes you E.T.”Kon pokes Bart’s nose with his pointer finger, making his voice nasally and rough, “Ell-ee-ot.”“Yeah, yeah,” Cassie says, shoving both their shoulders. “E.T go home, you nerds.”
Relationships: Bart Allen & Cassie Sandsmark, Bart Allen & Kon-El | Conner Kent, Kon-El | Conner Kent & Cassie Sandsmark
Series: Love, Not Loved [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016593
Comments: 10
Kudos: 105





	i'd give anything to hear you say it one more time

Two years ago, Cassie watched her best friend fall from the sky, and her world crashed to the ground with him. That was not the last time she lost a best friend, but it was the last time she was there for it.

When Bart died, she hadn’t thought things could get worse. Her throat was sore for days after it happened, screaming into the sky, begging for Zeus to do something. He didn’t, and sometimes when the sun hits the clouds just right, her throat still itches. 

Then Tim died, and a part of her truly believed as she stripped from her funeral clothes and tumbled into bed, that she would be next.

The wind whips past her face now, flying as fast as she can, and the memories of the screams and fire and Kon’s body falling down, down, down, hit her but she doesn’t stop because this time Kon isn’t falling.

He’s standing in the middle of a cornfield in Kansas, actually. A crop circle blown wide around them that was, for real this time, created by an alien (and a speedster). Bart is standing next to him, talking about something while he nods along, phone still gripped in his hand.

Cassie touches down, and she doesn’t believe it.

“Cass!” Kon-- or not Kon, maybe Kon, just a kid who looks and sounds like him, greets. His voice is light, happy. “Finally! I was starting to wonder if you didn’t believe me.”

She doesn’t. She also doesn’t say that. The words stick in her throat.

“You don’t look much older,” Bart says, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “How long were we gone?”

“A year,” Cassie tells him, rushed out like a gasp of air. “Two for-- for him.”

Her phone buzzes and she yanks it out of her pocket, staring at her mother’s worried text. Worried, because Cassie isn’t okay. She looks back at Kon and Bart, standing like they’re real. Bart is young again, just the kid Cassie remembers in all her fondest memories.

Either she’s going crazy, dreaming, or someone is being very, very cruel.

“Cassie?” Kon prompts, smile slanted as his eyebrows furrow in worry. “You okay?”

“You’re dead,” Cassie tells him.

Bart jumps in the way he always did when he wanted attention. Waving his hands at his sides, eyebrows inching further up his forehead. Cassie could smile if it didn’t tug at her heart and make her want to punch the nearest wall. “I know that one! So basically, we were stuck in the speedforce. Kinda. Our bodies died, basically, but our other stuff didn’t, it was just, like, stuck? In the speedforce. So Kon got us out and now we’re here!”

Cassie blinks at him, Kon rolls his eyes fondly. The ground beneath her is suddenly too soft to support her weight, and her knees buckle as she drops.

She doesn’t hit the ground. Bart is there, his arms around her torso, holding her up. His hands clasped behind her back and his face looking up at her, something indiscernible in his eyes.

The smallest shock travels through her, and she recognizes it. It’s his.

It’s Bart. His arms, and his hair tickling her chin and his eyes looking into hers like he understands. It’s Bart and he’s not dead and covered in roses with only a name and no date and a half empty funeral service.

Cassie’s hands shake as she lifts them, cupping Bart’s face in her hands. The two of them sink slowly to the ground and the mud is cold and wet against Cassie’s knees but she isn’t kneeling in front of his grave anymore she’s kneeling in front of  _ him. _

“Imp?” she chokes out, thumb running across his cheekbone. He grins at her, and she barely sees it before she’s tugging him in, against her chest with his face pressed against her shoulder and his nose is cold but his body is warm as she holds it tight. “You’re-- you’re alive.”

“Yeah, Wondie,” Bart whispers back. Her tears are in his hair and on his neck but he just curls himself up, closer to her, and says, “‘Course I am.”

Cassie’s hand finds the back of his head, fingers burying themselves in his hair. She looks up, and Kon hasn’t vanished. He’s still smiling at her, but his eyes are wet. “Hey, WG. You look like shit.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Bart says, muffled by her collarbone, “you look beautiful.”

Kon shrugs, and then takes a few steps forward, kneeling down next to Cassie. He lifts a hand, towards her face, and stalls halfways. Cassie leans forward to press her cheek into his palm. “You absolute dolt.”

He laughs then, and she’d forgotten that it sounded like thunder mixed with a squeaker toy. It’s horrendous and loud and she loves it more than anything. Pulling the hand that isn’t in Bart’s hair away from their hug, she grabs Kon’s forearm and tugs him against the both of them.

She’s shivering in her shorts and hoodie but Kon shifts to sit down and pulls Bart and Cassie practically on top of him. He wraps one arm around Bart’s stomach and the other around Cassie’s shoulders and one of Bart’s elbows digs uncomfortably into her side and her leg is tucked close against her chest to give Kon room but she doesn’t move a muscle.

That day two years ago started the worst years of her life. Bart’s shoulders shake and Kon is sniffing and for the very first time in two years, Cassie is genuinely happy.

“Tim is gonna be jealous he missed this,” Kon says.

“We can do it a second time!” Bart pipes up excitedly.

Cassie’s world falls apart again.

The hug that was only a few seconds ago the comfort she had craved for so long is now constricting, tight and suffocating and all she can see is the space between Kon and Bart where he should be. Where he isn’t.

She scrambles back, falling on top of Kon and dropping Bart into the mud. She doesn’t stop moving until she’s a good distance away, clutching at her chest.

Yesterday. She went to his funeral yesterday and now she’s sitting here acting as if everything is  _ happy _ and  _ fine _ and  _ good _ when she can still feel that postcard between her fingers, can still hear the sound of the impenetrable Batman breaking.

“Cassie?” Kon calls, inching towards her. Bart hangs back, one hand on his own chest, like he’s mirroring her.

It’s adorable and endearing and exactly the thing she missed so much but there’s no Tim to turn to and say that. She can’t breathe, tucking in on herself further and squeezing her eyes shut.

Someone sets a gentle hand over hers, over her heart, squeezing it. Then the hand pulls hers against a different chest, steady and rising and falling to a timed beat. Someone is telling her to follow it.

The first month as leader, Cassie broke. She found a quiet storage room and sat on the floor and cried because she didn’t know what she was doing.

Tim found her, shook off all her pleadings for him to take the role back like they were ridiculous, and took her hand, pressing both of theirs against her heart.

_ “As long as you follow what you believe in, you’ll do fine, Cass.” _

He asked after, if she still wanted him to take it. She looked into his eyes and saw the burden there and knew that he would, if she asked him to, and that it would hurt him. She told him not now. Someday, but not now.

And then Kon and Bart died, and there were too many somedays to remember anymore.

The chest under her hand keeps rising and falling, and finally, Cass’s lungs fall into line, stuttering a few times before they time themselves to the beat. She opens her eyes slowly, and Kon is there, looking at her like he always did. Like she hung the moon.

“There you are,” he says. “All good?”

No. Cassie manages a smile, eyes finding Bart again, still standing a few feet away. His hand is dropped to his side, now, fingers tapping at his thigh. She beckons with her free hand and he jolts forward like something snapped, stopping next to her and plopping down onto the ground.

“What was that?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Panic attack.”

“I know  _ that, _ Kon. I meant  _ why.” _

Cassie doesn’t want to tell them. She can’t tell them. Slowly, she takes another breath and shakes her head. “Sorry, I guess you guys being back is a lot to process.”

“Way to go, Bart.”

“Hey! You died first!”

“And you died second! You should have known better!”

“Listen,” Bart says, pressing his hands together like he’s praying, “I do not control the--”

“If you start quoting memes at me I swear to god I’ll punt you into the sun.”

“Have you guys told your families?” Cassie interrupts.

The boys go silent. After a second, Kon says, “I kind of just… called you and Tim.”

“Tim went to voicemail.”

“Probably on patrol.”

Cassie stands up, pulling her hand out of Kon’s grip. She smiles, and Tim’s ghost is looking over her shoulder like a beacon of her guilt, but when she smiles she can’t help that it’s genuine. “Who first, then?”

Bart rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know, my family is probably still pissed at me.”

“Bart,” Cassie says sternly, remembering Barry’s eyes and Wally’s choked words and the pain in the Garrick’s faces and the guilt that dripped off that tiny memorial service, joining the already fallen rain on the grass. “They just miss you.”

Still looking unsure, Bart shrugs. Kon drapes an arm over his shoulder and points at his chest, “If I don’t see my little brother in the next twenty minutes, I’m going to pass out.”

“We are in Kansas.”

“I know, I could see the crop circle for miles.”

“Kon! Kon, that makes you E.T.”

Kon pokes Bart’s nose with his pointer finger, making his voice nasally and rough, “Ell-ee-ot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cassie says, shoving both their shoulders. “E.T go home, you nerds.”

Gasping, Kon lifts off the ground a foot or two. “I’m offended. I am not a nerd. I’m like the cool, punk, bad boy.”

“Rebellious phase,” Cassie and Bart say at the same time, nodding sagely. The fourth voice is missing, the one that’s supposed to say “run back to Superman country boy”. Cassie’s gut twists and she fights to keep the light look on her face.

Kon salutes them, winks, and speeds off without warning. Bart looks like he’s about to run after him, probably to race, but then he turns and hugs Cassie tight around the torso. “We’re still going to be there when you catch up.”

Sitting on her bed wearing Bart’s goggles, wondering if they’ll give her some insight she never had. The roses on his grave, kept and tidied every week. His arms around her waist.

Cassie snorts, “Catch up? Who says you’ll beat me?”

Dirt kicks up in her face as Bart shoots off, letting out a holler as he goes. Without giving herself time to think, Cassie flies after him.

She does get there last, and maybe it’s because she lets them win, but she’s not going to say that.

Kon is standing a ways away from the house, stock still. He looks like a statue. He looks  _ scared _ . Bart stops short next to him, switching between his house and his face. Cassie can’t make out what they’re talking about until her feet hit the ground.

“--talked about this. You can do it! They’ll be happy to see you.”

Cassie wonders how long they were looking for home. If maybe they thought they’d never get back. Did they mourn her? Their families? Tim?

It hits her that they probably feel similar to her, right now. Like they’re part of a second chance.

Kon doesn’t get time to reply.

The Kent’s farmhouse --the one they’d been staying in more often than not, after Kon died-- front door slams open, and Clark is standing there.

He’s still in his slacks from the night before, but his dress shirt has been discarded, leaving the white undershirt only. He stares at the three of them.

Kon makes a noise, smaller than Cassie has ever heard, and his knee jerks once, like he’s going to take a step, and then he’s not just walking, he’s running, and Clark is running too, in his socks with the front door banging against the side of the house in the wind.

They meet in the middle, five feet in the air and Kon looks small when he slams into Clark’s chest, Clark’s arms wrapping around him in a tight hold as they lower slowly back to the ground.

Bart reaches up and takes Cassie’s hand.

She watches as Clark pulls back from the hug to cup Kon’s jaw, runs his hand over his hair, pats his shoulders like he’s making sure he’s real.

Cassie inches forward, tugging Bart with her, and once they’re closer she can see the tears in Clark’s eyes.

“You’re-- I heard your heartbeat and I thought I was going crazy, but you’re--”

“I’m okay dad,” Kon says, and his voice cracks. Clark hugs him again, pressing a kiss to the top of his hair.

He looks up and sees Bart, and his smile grows. His eyes catch Cassie’s, and he looks past her for a second, like he’s waiting for the fourth. When he doesn’t find one he meets her eyes again, and there’s pain there, behind the joy. Cassie nods.

“Hey, is-- is Lois--” Once again, Kon doesn’t get the chance to finish his thought. He cuts himself off this time, looking up sharply. Cassie follows his gaze to the farmhouse, where Lois stands on the porch with a robe wrapped around herself. Her eyes are wide. Kon’s are glistening.

Lois goes slower than Clark, walking carefully across the grass, eyes never leaving them. When she stops, everything is quiet. Slowly, she reaches up to press her palm against Kon’s cheek, wiping away a tear there.

“Mom,” Kon chokes, and Lois’ other hand lifts to press against the side of his neck. She pulls him forward, so he’s leaning down to press her forehead against his. “I’m sorry, mom.”

Lois shakes her head, gets up on her tiptoes to kiss the spot between his eyebrows. “It’s okay, baby. You’re here.”

Cassie feels like she’s watching something that belongs to the Kent’s, but she can’t pull her eyes away as Kon falls into his mom’s arms and she keeps hushing him, even though she’s crying too. Clark has a hand in his hair still, like if he stops touching his son he’ll go away again.

She understands the feeling. Bart’s hand is warm against hers.

“Jon’s awake,” Lois says quietly, stepping back from the hug but not letting go of his face. “Do you want to see him?”

Kon was so sure a few minutes ago, back in the crop circle. Now he just looks nervous. He glances at the house, and then looks back at his parents. “You aren’t going to ask--?”

“Later,” Lois says.

Clark’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, “Let’s have this first, alright son?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Cassie looks down at Bart, checking on him on instinct. He’s not looking at the Kent’s, he’s looking at the horizon, the rising sun in the distance. She squeezes his hand and he squeezes back, but doesn’t take his eyes off the sun. He and Tim spent thirteen hours one weekend, trying to figure out how fast Bart would have to run to see the sunrise in every part of the world in one day.

She never actually asked if they figured it out.

The Kent’s are on their way inside now, but Kon turns out of the arms his parents have around him and snags Cassie’s other hand, dragging them along. Cassie tries to tell herself that she doesn’t want to be a part of this, that she doesn’t deserve to be, but she’s holding Bart and Kon’s hand and the sun rising, and it's been so long since she’s been in a house that isn’t grieving.

Jon is sitting on the couch in fleece Robin pajamas, a book on his lap and red eyes as he keeps checking his phone every two seconds. She doesn’t need to be Kryptionian to hear Kon’s breath hitch.

“Baby,” Lois calls softly, and Jon looks up.

He stares at Kon, blinks a few times and rubs his eyes, then goes back to staring. “What?”

“Hey, squirt,” Kon says. His voice wavers.

Jon stands slowly, book slipping off his lap and onto the floor. He scans the room, and the look of confusion on his face grows when he sees Bart. “What’s going on?”

Clark kneels down, beckoning Jon closer, and after a few seconds of hesitation, he pads across the living room in his socks and presses his side against Clark’s chest. Clark wraps an arm around him and nods at Kon, “You can hear it, can’t you? It’s his heartbeat.”

Cassie almost laughs at Kon when he puffs out his chest like he’s trying to amplify the sound, and Bart snickers. Jon pulls away from his dad, giving Kon a wide berth as he stops next to Cassie, tugging at the bottom of her jacket.

“Is it him?” he asks her, and Cassie has no idea why he needs to hear it from her. He swallows. “You’ve known him longer. Is it him?”

That’s true, she supposes. Superman may have known  _ of _ him long before Cassie, but he didn’t know him. She nods. “It’s them, Jon.”

Kon drops to his knees at the same time that Jon throws himself at him, wrapping his arms around his neck and his legs around his torso. Kon cups his head, pressing their temples together and taking ragged breaths. “I’m here, bud. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“I visited you every-- every day,” Jon chokes out. “I always sat with you and told you stories but it wasn’t the same and I  _ missed _ you.”

“I missed you too.”

This is when Cassie should go, as Clark pulls out cookies and milk and Lois stands behind Kon’s chair, running her fingers through his hair while Jon sits on his lap, chattering happily about all the cool things Kon has missed out on.

Bart seems to be feeling the same, he’s almost hiding behind her now, watching the house warily. He hasn’t tried to zip around anywhere, or start talking a mile a minute. Cassie steps behind him and braces her elbows on his shoulders, her chin on his head.

“Cassie,” Bart whines, wrapping his hands around her forearms. He doesn’t push her off though, and one of his thumbs starts tapping faster than she can see.

“Does Barry know?” Clark asks, pouring Kon a second glass of milk. Bart shakes his head mutely. Clark frowns, “The Garrick’s? Wally?”

He shakes his head again. Kon clears his throat to get their attention. “We came here first thing after calling Cassie.”

From the other room, Jon’s phone chimes, and he jumps, turning to look in that direction. Kon pokes his side. “What?”

“It’s Damian,” Jon explains, climbing off his lap. Cassie thinks she might stop breathing again.

Bart makes a half mocking ‘aw’ sound, and Kon just laughs, “Good to know you guys are still friends. Don’t tell him yet, I want to surprise Tim.”

_ Fuck. _

Jon freezes halfway to the couch, Lois’ hands stall in Kon’s hair, and Clark sets the milk down, deliberately slow. He looks at Cassie, and she can only meet his eye for a few seconds before she looks away.

“You… haven’t contacted the Wayne’s?” Lois asks carefully.

“Tim went to voicemail when we called,” Kon tells her. “Figured he was on patrol. Why? What’s up?”

When Cassie looks up again, Clark is still watching her. He nods, once, and says, “I’ll let Bruce know.”

It’s not a lie, it’s not a truth. They’re leaving it up to Cassie. Great. She loves responsibility.

“Right, I forgot B can be a hardass about stuff like this,” Kon says, apparently deciding that he’s deciphered the good mood’s upset.

Lois’ hands start back up again, slower now. Cassie glances down at Bart, and he’s watching Jon with a speculating frown.

Time to go.

“You’re turn, Bart,” she says, twisting her wrist to poke his nose. Kon gets up, bracing his foot on the chair he was just sitting in to retie his shoelace that had come undone.

Tapping her arms with all his fingers now, Bart furrows his eyebrows at Kon, “You don’t have to come. You should stay with your family.”

“We promised we’d figure it out together.”

“Yeah, but--”

“Dude.” Kon ruffles his hair. “We’re a team, remember?”

Lois sits down at the counter, watching them all critically. Cassie shrinks under her gaze. It’s never easy to forget Lois is a journalist. She puts on a smile, “You just come back, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Kon says seriously. He glances at the door Clark left through, “Tell Clark for me? He’s going to be in there for a while.”

“Yes, I think he will be.”

Pulling Bart away from Cassie, Kon heads towards the living room. “I’ll tell the little guy know and we get going.”

Before Cassie can follow, Lois catches her wrist. She inhales sharply, turning to the woman, waiting to be scolded or snapped at or questioned. 

Lois pulls her into a hug.

Cassie doesn’t have the energy to hug her back, and if she did, she’s not sure she wouldn't just start bawling right then and there. Lois doesn’t seem to mind, just hugs her tighter and rubs small circles between her shoulder blades. 

“You don’t have to be the one who tells them,” she whispers in Cassie’s ear, and she’s either confident that Kon is too busy to listen, or that he won’t understand what they’re talking about.

She’s right. There’s still mascara smeared under her eyes where Cissie had tried to wipe it away, the hole in her chest isn’t all the way full, and it’s all happened so fast. She could tell their families to do it, to sit them down once Cassie is back home, curled up in bed. Hell, even Bruce Wayne would tell them for her, with an understanding smile and pain hidden in his eyes.

Cassie doesn’t have to be the one to topple their world just when they get back to it.

But she’s their leader, even if they aren’t a real team anymore, even if they haven’t been for a long time. What is it Tim always used to quote? “Heavy is the head”.

“Yes I do,” she whispers finally. Lois kisses her hair and nods. Cassie doesn’t cry, but she still wipes her eyes when she steps back, smiling at Lois. “I’ll bring them back.”

“I know you will.”

Kon and Bart are waiting for her outside, Bart’s wearing one of Kon’s hoodies over his suit, and he’s drowning in it. 

“All good?” Kon asks lightly.

Cassie smiles at him, “All good. Ready, Imp?”

“Maybe we should go tell Tim first,” Bart rushes out in one breath, “I mean it’s not very fair that the three of us are all together and telling our families but we’re not actually telling Tim, right?”

Kon frowns like he’s actually considering it. Warning bells go off in Cassie’s head. She kicks Bart’s foot with the toe of her shoe, searching for a valid excuse. “Why are you avoiding this?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I just think we should tell Tim first.”

“Bart, your family isn’t mad at you, trust me, they’re just--”

“Better off?” Bart asks in a clipped tone, cutting Cassie short.

Ah, abandonment issues, that’ll do nicely.

Behind Bart, Kon looks furious. She learned a long time ago it’s protective anger, and he’s never really gotten a handle on it. She starts talking before he can say something brash, “I didn’t go to your funeral.”

Silence. Cassie winces.

“You… didn’t?” Bart asks quietly.

“Neither did Tim.”

Kon’s glare gets darker, “What the hell, Cassie?”

She should really learn to talk faster. Taking a deep breath, she tucks her hands into her jacket pockets. “We were offworld, on a mission. It wasn’t supposed to line up that way, we were supposed to be back in time, but we just-- we weren’t. We missed it.”

Both Kon and Bart have various levels of sadness and sympathy on their faces. Bart nods, “I understand.”

“No. That’s not-- that’s not the point. I was devastated, so was Tim. The second best friend we’d lost in a year and we couldn’t even be there. Tim was angry, and started back into Gotham patrols full force once we got back. I just sat in my room and tried to pretend I hadn’t failed you a second time.” Cassie avoids their gaze carefully, focusing on a large tree in the Kent’s backyard, where a tire swing sways gently. “A couple weeks after we got back, Mr. Garrick called me.”

“Jay?”

“Yeah. He asked me if I was free the next day, because he wanted to hold a memorial service for you. Like a second funeral. He said it wasn’t right that Tim and I weren’t there the first time, that we deserved to be, that you deserved to have us there.” She finally turns to Bart, and there are big, round droplets of tears pooling in his eyes, threatening to fall. “I talked to Tim, Barry called him around the same time Jay called me.”

Kon shuffles forward to wrap an arm around Bart, his elbow on his shoulder and his forearm across his chest. Bart swipes at his eyes with the oversized sleeves of Kon’s hoodie. “Oh.”

Cassie shrugs, “If they were so okay with not having you around, they wouldn’t have gone through all of that just to get us there. I saw them, Bart. They were just sad.”

That’s what it takes for Bart to start running. Kon bites his lip as he turns to her, “Is that really how they were?”

“That’s how everyone was,” Cassie tells him, and takes off.

The Garrick’s house is in the middle of Star City suburbia, so the three of them stop a good distance away, walking down the vacant sidewalks. A few cars rumble past, their drivers yawning or sipping at coffee. Cassie forgot that for ninety-nine percent of the world, this is just a regular day.

Yesterday’s service sits like ash in her sinuses, but Kon and Bart at her side makes her eyes light up. It’s a weird feeling, grieving and winning all at once.

They stop on the Garrick’s porch, Bart’s finger poised over the doorbell hesitantly. He looks back at them, and Kon gives him a thumbs up and Cassie smiles. He slams his finger against the button and she can hear it faintly as it echoes through the house.

It takes two minutes for the door to swing open, and Kon and Cassie have to drape themselves over Bart’s shoulders to keep him from running.

Mrs. Garrick stands at the door, and then she’s not standing.

Kon gets to her before she hits the ground, tucking himself under her arm to support her weight, “Hey, Mrs. Joan.”

“Sorry to spring this on you,” Cassie adds, a grin tugging at her lips.

Bart says nothing. 

Joan, getting her bearings, steps away from Kon to reach out to Bart, holding his chin between her knuckle and thumb. “Is that you?” she asks.

“In the flesh,” Bart replies, trying for a smile.

The hug he gets isn’t like Clark, desperate and loud, or like Lois, gently and comforting. It just is, like Joan had been waiting for Bart to come home all along. She leads them into the house, an arm around Bart. “Are you hungry?”

“Is that even a question?”

“Just as cheeky, are we?” she says, kissing his hair.

Bart grins up at her, patting her cheek.

It’s so normal and routine, Cassie forgets for a minute that Bart was dead for a year.

Kon is giving her a look that says “this is not going how I thought it would”, and Cassie shrugs back, meaning “I thought there would be more tears”, and then they watch Joan make Bart a sandwich.

“This is a bit of a shock,” Joan says, setting a plate down in front of Bart. She looks at Cassie, “Do you think it was a coincidence that it happened today?”

Tim’s funeral. Tim’s grave. Tim saying he could bring them back.

It’s not possible that he made this happen. It doesn’t line up with Kon and Bart’s story, or Tim’s death, but it still feels like it was meant to happen.

Maybe the universe decided to stop kicking her while she was down.

“What’s today?” Bart asks with his mouth full, happily munching on his sandwich. “Where’s Jay? Should you call Barry? Should I call Barry? What about Wally? He’s not living with them, right? Maybe you should call Iris first. She’s not as crazy.”

Luckily, that gives them enough questions to answer that they can ignore the first one.

Joan starts on the second sandwich, sending Cassie much of the same look Clark had, and then says, “Jay is asleep. Hasn’t been doing that much lately. I’m worried if I wake him now he’ll think he’s gone insane.”

“Jay wears a bucket as head protection,” Bart says, swinging his legs, “he should’ve realized he’s insane a long time ago.”

Joan laughs at that, chuckling as she sets the cheese knife aside to cover her mouth. Her shoulders shake and after a moment, it’s clear she’s not laughing anymore.

Kon inches behind Cassie, and she scowls at him. He shrugs. Bart sets his sandwhich down, speeding to Joan’s side. He reaches out hesitantly to tap her arm. “Joan? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Joan says, pulling him against her. “Nothing is wrong now, Bart. Not anymore.”

Bart’s arms snake around her, his face pressed flat against her stomach. “You really missed me that much?” he asks into her shirt, it’s so muffled Cassie barely hears it.

“And more,” Joan whispers. She sniffs, stepping back and clearing her throat. “Now go finish that sandwich, young man. While I finish these for your friends.”

“Wait, those aren’t also for me?”

“You’ll be the death of me, one day.”

Cassie giggles, leaning back until she hits Kon’s chest. He settles an arm around her shoulder, huffing a laugh into her hair.

By the time Cassie is finished with her sandwich, Bart has eaten three microwave burritos and is now warming up popcorn. Joan is watching him from the counter, head propped in her hand, and the look on her face is such open fondness that Cassie has no idea why Bart was worried.

“Dear? Are you making popcorn? It’s seven in the morning.”

Bart stiffens, shoulders straightening out at Jay’s voice. Instinctually, even though they both know Jay poses no threat, Kon and Cassie move to flank him.

Jay stops short in the doorway. “Dear,” he repeats, “am I hallucinating or are Diana’s girl and two dead boys standing in my kitchen?”

“I’m more like Donna’s girl,” Cassie points out, while Kon nods along to her logic.

“It’s him,” Joan says softly.

The heavy silence is only broken by the steady popping of the popcorn in the microwave. Bart reaches up to hit stop, never taking his eyes off Jay. Kon reaches over his head to pull the microwave open and take the bag out, because he’s a bastard like that.

Cassie still takes a few kernels when he offers the bag to her.

“Hey, Jay. Long time?”

“A year,” Jay clarifies. He scrubs at his eyes and drops his hands again, then raises an eyebrow at Bart, “So are you gonna stand there all day or what?”

Jay hugs him like he’s never going to let go, standing up to his full height once Bart wraps his arms around his neck, so his legs are dangling freely in the air.

“Missed you,” Bart says contentedly.

“Did Joan already say you’d be the death of us?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Did you eat?”

“Everything but the popcorn. Kon  _ stole _ it.” Bart waves one of his hands in Kon’s direction, and Jay squats enough for him to snatch a handful of popcorn before he stands again. Bart munches the popcorn happily against Jay’s shoulder. Cassie wishes she wouldn’t completely ruin the moment by taking a picture.

Kon raises a hand, looking around the room, “Mrs. Garrick disappeared.”

“I was calling the rest of the family,” Joan says, walking back into the room as she pockets her phone. “Three seconds.”

“Four,” Jay chimes in.

Bart lifts his head off his shoulder, “Now.”

It turns out that Bart is right, because the front door is opened with force, and a red and yellow blur skid to a stop, Wally and Barry, out of breath and eyes wide, hair wild. They probably got straight out of bed and ran here, judging by the smoldering slippers on Wally’s feet. Iris is being carried bridal style by Barry. She drops down onto the ground and makes her way over to Bart like a woman on a mission.

Moms are just like that, Cassie has learned.

Bart wiggles out of Jay’s grip so he stands toe to toe with Iris, looking up at her with a wide grin. There’s nervousness there too, but Bart’s always been good at hiding the negative. “Hey, grams.”

“I might have a few more worry lines since you last saw me, but I’m not that old,” Iris tells him. She smiles, kneeling down in front of him so she has to look up instead, “You’re okay?”

“Peachy.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky.” Bart sticks his pinky finger out to prove it, and Iris hooks it with hers, only to tug him forward. She’s still kneeling, so her face is pressed against his ribs. He pats her shoulders at a steady beat, looking past them all to Barry.

Kon steps up to Cassie’s shoulder, nodding at Wally. Cassie nods back, getting the memo. Bart is trying very hard to avoid looking at him.

“Hey pal,” Barry says finally, his voice hoarse. He takes a few steps forward, dropping a hand on Bart’s head. “You’re tiny again.”

“Disappointed?”

Barry shakes his head, whispering no so quietly Cassie can really only read his lips. He hugs Bart from the side so he doesn’t squash Iris, and when he pulls back he keeps an arm around him that Bart leans into. He’s still not looking at Wally.

Before Cassie can say anything, Kon beats her to it, moving behind Bart to whisper something to him. He presses a feather light kiss to his ear when he steps back again, and Bart finally tugs his eyes towards the front door.

“Wally, I’m really--”

“Shut  _ up, _ kid,” Wally says, closing the door and shucking off his jacket as he walks to their little group. “I forgave you for everything months ago. I just missed you.”

Bart looks at her then, and Cassie smiles back, quirking her eyebrow. “Told you so.”

Watching Wally join the hug, Kon elbows Cassie, “Two down, one to go, huh?”

She has to tell them now. She has to explain. They’re going to hate her. 

“I’m gonna call Tim again,” Kon decides, loud enough for the room to hear.

When Barry looks at her his eyes are sad. “Cassie?”

“They just-- he was--” Cassie stops and takes a deep breath. “If you guys don’t mind, Kon is right. There’s one more person we have to see.”

Kon grins, already on the way out the door, calling thanks back to Joan. He doesn’t seem to catch that something is wrong. Bart untangles himself from his family, looking between Barry and Cassie. He takes her hand again. 

“Can I fly with you?” he asks quietly.

Cassie just nods and picks him up. He presses his face against her neck and when they’re flying, she thinks she feels drops of moisture there, but it could be her imagination.

When they get to Wayne manor, Cassie grabs Kon’s sleeve and yanks him down at the bridge, far from the driveway. “Stay here.”

“What? Cass--”

“Please, Kon. Just let me… let me warn them, alright?”

Kon scowls at her, but there must be something in her tone, her leader voice slipping through, that makes him nod. Bart reaches up and tugs at his elbow, and his face softens. “Okay, Wondie. You’re the boss.”

Cassie doesn’t feel like it.

When she knocks on the Wayne door, she’s expecting Alfred, what she’s not expecting is the crowd behind him. Alfred gives her a sad smile, “Miss Cassie.”

She has to remind herself that she saw them all yesterday, because it feels like the time between the funeral and now has been a lifetime. She opens her mouth to speak, but the words get stuck in her throat.

“Are they really alive?” Stephanie asks, her hands wrapped around Jason’s biceps like it’s a lifeline.

Cassie nods, slowly, and Damian turns sharply from where he’s standing to kick a stray boot by the door.

“Dami,” Dick chides tiredly, before he sets a hand on Alfred’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Alf. We got it this time.”

“And lunch,” Jason adds. His eyes are red. 

Alfred looks like he’s about to disagree, but Cass takes his hand and tugs him away. “Come. Chess, me and Bruce. Tell me good moves.”

Duke waves at her, and hesitantly, Cassie waves back. 

“I can’t do this,” Stephanie whispers into the silence. “They’re back and he’s-- I can’t do this.”

She leaves, and Cassie doesn’t blame her. Duke follows her without a word.

Three left. Cassie looks at the ground.

“Do they know?” Dick asks.

“No.”

Jason bristles, his chest puffing out. “You didn’t tell them?”

Clicking his tongue, Damian crosses his arms and slumps against the wall. “I presume she wanted them to see their families before they found out.”

“Presume?” Dick asks with the hint of diluted amusement in his tone.

“Jon called me.”

Dick nods, and then turns back to Cassie. “Do you want me to get Bruce?”

“What?” Cassie shakes her head. “No,  _ god _ no, I’d never… I didn’t come here so one of you could tell them. I just wanted to ask if we could go see him.”

“Of course,” Damian says first, which is moderately surprising. He seems to debate on voicing what he’s thinking, and finally says, “Timothy would want to know, that they are well.”

And… yeah, he would. The grief hits Cassie differently now, because Tim was hurting just as much as her that day at the old HQ, and she got to see the light and the end of all of that pain, and he didn’t.

Jason picks Damian up, despite his indignant squawk, something on his face that looks a lot like he’s trying not to cry. After a few seconds of struggling, Damian sighs and lets himself collapse on Jason’s shoulder. Dick doesn’t look away from Cassie’s face, despite the noises behind him.

He leans back and grabs something by the door, pulling his arm back again, he’s holding a long jacket. He holds it out to her, “Your legs look freezing.”

“Oh,” Cassie says, but takes the coat. It’s Jason’s, she’s pretty sure, it smells like smoke. But it also smells like old floorboards and computer wiring and Gotham air and stale coffee and Red Bull cans and Cassie wonders how many times Tim stole it, taking it off the hook in passing as he rushed out the door, for it to smell like him.

“Take as long as you need,” Dick tells her.

“The coat?”

“Keep it,” Jason tells her.

Cassie nods and turns, trudging back towards the bridge.

“It’s not fair.”

“I can count on one hand how many times the universe has been on Timmy’s side, squirt.”

“It’s cold out, let’s go start lunch.”

She can’t help it, Cassie turns around. “Jason.”

The door opens again, and Jason leans out, Damian still in his arms and Dick on his tiptoes behind him, trying to see what’s happening.

“How many people are in your family?”

“Nine.”

“Then it’s not one hand.”

All three faces pinch at that, and Jason nods at her in thanks, and the door clicks shut.

Kon is pacing when she gets back to the bridge, Bart is sitting down, rolling a small rock between his palms.

“There you are! Freaking bats being Kryptonian proof. What took you so long?”

Cassie wraps the large coat around herself. “Just talking. Listen, I need you to promise me you won’t bother the Wayne’s.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s Tim,” Bart says softy, climbing to his feet. He brushes his thighs off tiredly. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

Kon turns sharply to look at Bart, “Gone where?”

“Kon,” Cassie says, but it comes out like a plea. “You know the answer to that.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly, and Kon takes a step back. “What? No. He-- we were--”

“Dead for two years,” Cassie finishes, voice breaking. “A lot happened.”

Bart’s arms are wrapped around himself tightly. He blinks at the ground. “How long?”

Too long, any second is too long. Forever, he’s been gone forever. 

Two weeks. He died two weeks ago.

“His funeral was yesterday,” Cassie finally manages to say.

Kon growls, turns and punches the stone wall of the bridge. It cracks under his fist. “We could’ve been there. We  _ should’ve _ been.”

“He died in Gotham,” Cassie says, pleading again, “It was a bat mission. Tim made a choice, he didn’t clue anyone else in.”

Bart presses the palms of his hands into his eyes. “Of course he did. How else would Tim die?”

“Bruce,” Kon grunts, “I want to--”

“No.”

“Cassie.”

“No, and I mean it, Kon. You didn’t see him yesterday. He _broke._ _Batman_ broke. I’m not letting you confront him after he went through all of that, okay? Just like I didn’t, not with Bruce, or Clark, or-- or the Garrick’s and Wally and Barry and your little brother and Lois and Tim’s family and--”

Bart cuts her off by pulling her into a hug, burying his face in the coat that smells like Tim. Kon still looks angry, but his eyes are wide now, tears on his cheeks. He stumbles into the hug like it’s the only thing that will keep him upright, and maybe it is.

When Cassie found out Tim was dead, she flew to Bart’s grave. She tried to tear up the roses she’d planted for him, the roses she’d planted with Tim, but she wasn’t thinking and wrapped her hands around the thorns and they hurt where they pricked her and she pulled away, pressed her face into the ground. She screamed until she couldn’t anymore and then she cried for hours.

Diana found her, apparently Cassie’s mother called. She lifted her up and carried her like she was a toddler again and all Cassie felt was pain, and the thorns didn’t matter because they were nothing compared to it.

She was alone, and now she isn’t, but the three of them aren’t complete.

“You lost all of us,” Bart says. He hugs her tighter.

Kon has his arms around both of them like he always does, because he’s protective and angry and she knows it’s tearing him apart that he wasn’t there for his best friend.

“Come on, I’ll take you to see him.” Cassie lifts Bart with one arm, links her other with Kon’s, and it’s so similar and so different from those walks she took from the car to the graves with Tim. They get within twenty feet of the grave and Bart slips out of her hold, knees locked. Cassie frowns down at him, “Bart?”

“I can’t,” he whispers. He shakes his head, eyes on the stone not far off. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Cassie runs a hand through his hair. “Just wait here, alright?”

Bart grabs Kon’s hand, and still doesn’t look away from the grave. “Come back.”

“You got it,” Kon tells him softly.

They walk the rest of the way in silence, just the two of them.

Tim’s grave is fresh, the dirt at the front of the headstone dark and moist, placed there not even twenty four hours ago.

It’ll settle, soon. The dirt will pack and the grass will begin to inch around the rectangle patch. In only a few weeks grass will start to grow there, a year and it will look like the ground has been there all along.

She looks at Thomas and Martha’s graves, and the grass ahead of it is the same color, the same length, the same everything as the grass surrounding it. As if it’s only a stone, and there’s not a coffin buried only a few feet below. It aches in her chest like she’s been shot.

“I wanted to hug him,” Kon says eventually. “The other stuff too, obviously. Tease him and go on a mission with him and play video games, tell him-- tell him that I love him.”

“I know.”

“Yeah. I guess you do.  _ Shit, _ Cassie, it’s been hell for you, hasn’t it?”

Cassie shrugs, reading Tim’s headstone carefully. She’d never actually gotten the chance, yesterday. 

_ “Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne” _

She’s glad it says Wayne, so that people ages from now, when the manor is piles of rotted wood and dust, will find the stone and be able to say with absolute certainty that Tim was a part of the Wayne family.

He always knew he was a bat, even when he didn’t think the others did, but he doubted, sometimes, whether or not he was part of the family.

_ “Well Tim,” _ she wants to tell him,  _ “there’s your written proof.” _

“"Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come; love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom”,” Kon quotes off the stone.

Cassie nods. “Shakespeare, sonnet one sixteen. I bet Alfred and Jason chose it.”

“It means…” Kon frowns at it, furrowing his eyebrows.

Copying his expression, Cassie goes over the lines again, rolling the words over in her mind. When the words finally click in her mind, her eyes widen. “Love, not loved.”

“Huh?”

“It’s… it means you don’t stop loving someone, after they die.” Cassie looks up at his face, “Your mom said it to Tim, at your funeral. Love, not loved.’

“Cassie?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Cassie tips against his side, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I love you too.”

“Let’s go, Bart looks like he needs a hug.” Kon presses his hand flat against the top of Tim’s gravestone. “I love you, Tim.”

“Love you,” Cassie echoes softly. She thinks if Tim was there he’d be happy for her. He’d want her to be happy. 

She’s not, and she is, and it's complicated, but she thinks he’d want her to let herself be relieved, that at least two of them are back.

_ “Look at the two of us, missing half the set.” _

Bart wraps himself around both of them when they get to him. It’s awkward to walk that way, but they do. Cassie looks up at the manor as they cross the bridge, and Bruce is standing in the window that she’s pretty sure is Tim’s.

She thinks he smiles. She smiles back.

It’s not perfect, by any means, but she isn’t alone, and that’s something.

She’ll come back, as many times as she needs to, to tell Tim about what he’s missing, and how she’s missing him.

It’s not good, but it’s not bad either. It’s complicated, and Bart is holding her hand, and Kon’s arm is around her shoulder, and Tim is dead.

Cassie isn’t alone, and that just has to be enough for now.


End file.
